


a little misunderstanding

by killerqueenwrites



Series: family business – supernatural au [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Found Family, Gen, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Rhodey is a good uncle, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, sorry - Freeform, tony is a dad learning how to dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: Once Peter decides he’s going with Mr Stark and Mr Rhodes, things move very quickly. Until he overhears them talking one day and thinks they've all made the biggest mistake of their lives.or, Tony is an idiot, Peter thinks he's going to be sent into foster care and thank God for Rhodey
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: family business – supernatural au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484696
Comments: 46
Kudos: 270





	a little misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> okay i know this isn’t the part i’ve been promising i KNOW, but someone on tumblr sent me this prompt and it got me thinking that we only really see our boys on important cases, sometimes with pretty decent time jumps between them. so: have everyone’s favourite dad learning how to dad, and rhodey being a good uncle
> 
> anonymous: if you're taking prompts, could you write a family business story set pretty soon after peter joins, where for whatever reason peter is afraid that tony's going to send him away? 
> 
> i got this prompt twice, so if it was the same person, i’m so sorry, i am just busy and slow 😂

Once Peter decides he’s going with Mr Stark and Mr Rhodes, things move very quickly.

They release May’s body (the phrase makes him feel sick) as soon as Captain Rogers closes the case as a series of animal attacks. The funeral is quiet, even by funeral standards – Peter should know. This is number four. Ned hugs him, crying, and MJ makes some vague threat to the tune of, “Keep in touch, loser,” but Peter just feels empty.

_Number four._

“Do you really have to go with these guys?” Ned says with a sniff.

“I want to,” Peter says. “And it’s not far – it’s like an hour and a half driving. There’s a bus station really close.”

“Flash is gonna get your spot on Decathlon,” Ned wails, and Peter can’t hold back a laugh. MJ snorts too, and then all three of them are giggling in the corner of a cemetery, barely ten minutes after the funeral ended.

“Gonna miss you guys,” Peter says, and Ned hugs him again.

* * *

“Take your time,” Mr Stark says. “You just need to think about what you wanna do with all of it.”

“I don’t…” Peter stands in the middle of his apartment, pieces of his life surrounding him. “I don’t want to throw anything out–“

“No!” Even Mr Stark seems horrified by that. “God, no, I just meant – pick what you want to bring, and we can put the rest in storage. Nothing’s getting thrown out. Absolutely not,”

“Oh.” Peter manages a smile. “Thanks. How, um, how much room…is there…?”

“You’ll have your own room, don’t worry about that. It’s a pretty big house. The kitchen stuff – we probably don’t need that, right? Less of the fact that I already have some, more to do with my complete inability to use them.”

Peter smiles again, and suddenly the worst thing he’s ever had to do seems a little less horrible, a little more manageable.

“You think I’m kidding? Ask Rhodey – we live off takeout.”

“That’s the dream.”

“Careful, you’re edging close to a teenage stereotype.”

* * *

The drive is long. Peter’s hardly ever been in any car that wasn’t a cab, never mind for more than an hour. The contents of his life have been condensed and neatly packed into the trunk among weapons that look hundreds of years old and books that must be even older.

“Are you sure about this, kid?” Mr Stark says, turning around from the driver’s seat while they’re stopped at a red light.

“Are _you_?” Peter retorts. “This was your idea.”

Rhodey cuts his gaze across to Mr Stark.

“‘Course I’m sure,” Mr Stark says brusquely. “Like you said, it was my idea. I’m always right.”

“You’re such an ass,” Rhodey says, and Mr Stark barks out a laugh. The radio blares out some classic rock song as they pull away, away from Queens and the only life Peter’s ever known.

* * *

His room is big. Bigger than the one in the apartment. Almost bigger than the apartment itself.

No, that’s not quite true. He’s just projecting all the empty space around him into the bedroom. The house is huge, both floors holding spacious rooms, and outside – outside is just trees, endless forest. He’s never been somewhere so remote.

Mr Stark helps him carry his bags upstairs and leaves him to it with a pat on the shoulder, and Peter really can’t decide if the silence had been respectful or awkward. He puts the sheets on the bed, makes an attempt at putting his clothes away, until he unearths a photo frame: it’s him, May and Ben at a Mets game, grinning at the camera. He stares at the picture for a long time, and the younger him stares back like an accusation.

Peter puts the photo in one of his drawers, under a pile of shirts, and sets a potted plant on the bedside table instead.

* * *

He’s been here before, after Ben. He knows the best way to avoid the grief and pain, and that’s keeping busy.

He trains at least once a day, usually getting his ass beat by Mr Stark. He finds fighting with knives – throwing them, using them in close combat – much easier than hand-to-hand. Whenever he isn’t training, Rhodey is setting him research: ghosts, ghouls (there’s a difference, apparently), vampires, werewolves, witches, sorcerers. It’s hard, but it’s good, and it renews his determination; he’s going to help people.

In his spare time, he does his own research. The name Stark is familiar, partly from its presence in the cultural consciousness, partly from a half-remembered conversation with MJ. The details are even more gory than he expects, but he does unearth the answer to his question: Howard Stark was Mr Stark’s father.

* * *

He’s been in his new home for a week when it happens.

He wakes earlier than normal, jolted out of a nightmare that he can’t really remember but probably involved a lot of blood. Once he gathers his thoughts, catches his breath, he rolls out of bed and pads towards his bathroom, wary of waking anyone up.

Something clinks in the kitchen.

“You sure you’re doing that right?” Rhodey’s voice says.

“Absolutely not.” A scraping noise. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, that’s not–“

“Jesus – Jesus, fuck. Fuck!” There’s a clatter, like he’s thrown something against the counter.

“Tony–“

“I can’t do this, Rhodey,” Mr Stark says. “I can’t – Christ, why did I think I could? I can’t be a father. Can’t even scramble a _fucking egg_ –“

“Hey, it’s okay. We still have pancake mix.”

“The breakfast is not the problem here!”

No. Peter is. Mr Stark doesn’t need him running around; the man may have extended the offer, but it had come while Peter was injured and literally crying on his shoulder. Pity, that’s all it was, and now he’s regretting the impulse.

So Peter has to leave. He doesn’t blame them, not at all. Taking on a kid is a big thing. Unknowingly, he’d manipulated Mr Stark into taking him in. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d done it.

Their voices are too low for him to hear, barely murmurs, but the sick feeling in Peter’s stomach doesn’t dissipate.

“So tell him tonight, okay? Tell him at dinner.”

“Right,” Mr Stark says. “Tonight. No problem.”

Peter turns around and goes back into his room.

* * *

“Peter? Hey, what’s this?”

Peter freezes, caught in Rhodey’s gaze like a rabbit in headlights, his clothes spread over the bed. He’d thought he should get a head start on packing while Mr Stark went out to pick up food. “I just – if I’m going back…”

“Going where?”

“Back to New York.”

Rhodey sighs. “You heard that, huh?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to – I was awake, and–“

“It’s all right, kid. You can put the bag away, too; you’re not going back.”

“I’m not? But – if it’s too much trouble, I don’t have to stay here. I can crash at my friend’s house, or something–“

“No,” Rhodey says firmly. “Look, Tony…overthinks. He second-guesses everything. His dad was–“

“Howard Stark, right?” Peter blurts, and Rhodey raises an eyebrow. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, Tony figured you’d do a little Googling.”

“Yeah, my friend is kinda into unsolved murders, and, like, everyone knows about the Stark case. I just didn’t know if it was the _same_ Stark, you know?”

Rhodey nods. “Same Starks. Point is, his dad wasn’t the best and he is scared shitless of letting you down.”

“How could he…?”

“Like I said, he overthinks. But he doesn’t want to send you away, kid. He – I’d barely heard him laugh for months before this week. He loves having you around. You’re going nowhere, Peter, unless you want to. You got that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, thank you.”

“No worries, kid.” Rhodey tilts his head at the sound of the front door opening. “There’s the idiot now.”

“Got food!” Mr Stark’s voice calls.

“Be right down,” Rhodey shouts back. “Okay, kid, time for an awkward conversation. You ready?”

Peter nods. He’s not. His heart is in his throat.

“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey says as they walk down the stairs together. “I think you should tell Peter that thing you wanted to talk about.”

Mr Stark blinks, nonplussed. “I was going to wait until we’d eaten…”

“Now,” Rhodey insists.

“Um, okay.” Mr Stark puts his bag of takeout on the counter. “Kid, we gotta – I need to adopt you.”

_What?_

“‘Cause guardianship – just as valid legally, but that still leaves room for questions and maybe inspections, and I don’t think they’d be too thrilled with the sheer number of weapons around the house. Adoption is watertight, you know? One and done. Just–“

“Sorry,” Peter says. “You – what? Why?”

Mr Stark looks to Rhodey for help, but apparently finds none forthcoming. “Um…I…”

“He’s bad at this,” Rhodey says. “What he’s trying to say is we’ve basically kidnapped you. As far as the state is concerned, you should be under their care. Rogers is helping us out, but it won’t be long before someone notices something’s up. We need to file paperwork, at the very least, just to cover our asses.”

“Oh. No, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Rhodey just likes to watch me struggle sometimes,” Mr Stark grumbles. “Yeah, legally, we need to cover all the bases. Make sure no one pulls us up for extraordinary rendition. Or something. I’m not a lawyer. Does that sound…okay…?”

Peter glances at Rhodey. “So you’re not – sending me back?”

“What? _No_. Jesus, kid.”

“Peter heard us talking this morning,” Rhodey says, and Peter watches the pieces slot together in Mr Stark’s head.

“Of course not,” he says gently. “I asked. I offered. I know I’m a dick, but I’m not that much of a raging asshole.”

“Why did you let me come with you?” Peter asks. “You wanted me to come up here.”

“Because I saw you,” Mr Stark says, “and I knew you wouldn’t be able to let this go. Monsters exist suddenly. Cool, right? Except they hurt people. Not so cool. You wouldn’t have just forgotten about it, left it to the professionals. No, you would’ve gone looking for things, and it would’ve gotten you killed. I didn’t need that on my conscience. I don’t. So, you’re here. You’re gonna learn. You’re gonna train. And…” He looks at the stove with a sigh. “And I’m gonna learn how to cook.”

* * *

Two days later, Peter moves his plant to the windowsill and puts his photos back on the bedside table: the one of him, May and Ben at the game; and a much older one, his parents holding him outside their house, the old tree in the background. He wishes he could remember more about them, about his first home, but he’s a baby in the picture, was barely four when they died.

_Parker luck,_ he thinks to himself, and carries on unpacking until Mr Stark knocks on his door.

“Hey, kid.”

“Hi.”

“These just came.” He holds up a heavy-looking parcel. “Documents – well, fake ones. Mostly. I think the adoption one is real.”

“That was quick.”

“Yeah. Don’t know how Barton swung that. I don’t ask. But yeah. Press credentials, passports, learner permits. Plenty of fake names for you, although I think you’re too young to get away with Feds or Air Martials.”

“Probably.”

“Welcome to the – _uh_ , the team.” Mr Stark clears his throat. “Think we should celebrate, don’t you? Any particular food you want to have? Bear in mind that my skill in the kitchen is close to zero.”

“Pizza?” Peter offers.

“Never a bad time for pizza,” Mr Stark agrees, and hovers in the doorway for a minute. “Listen, kid, I, um…I know we made it sound like this was a legality thing, but…you’re my responsibility now. I do…want to take care of you. This isn’t – I don’t want you to think the only reason you’re here is to help us.” He waves the parcel. “Legally, I gotta look after you anyway.”

“Legally,” Peter agrees, unable to stop the smile that tugs at his lips.

“No other reason. Now!” Mr Stark claps his hands together. “Pizza. You want to come with me to pick it up?”

“Yeah. That sounds great.” Peter shifts his picture of him and his parents.

“You were cute, kid. What happened?”

“ _Hey_ –“

Mr Stark reaches out and ruffles his hair before he can duck away. “All right. We’ll need to phone in our order on the way. I do have one rule, though.”

Peter waits.

“Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

“But–“

“House rules, kiddo!” Mr Stark calls, already halfway down the stairs.

Peter follows, ignoring Rhodey sniggering to himself in the kitchen. “Mr Stark!”

“Nuh-uh! I’m legally responsible for you now. You have to do what I say.”

“Well, now you’re just on a power trip.” Peter grabs his sweatshirt off the couch and follows Mr Stark out to the car.

“And it feels good.” With a smirk, Mr Stark turns the key and the radio lights up as the engine jumps to life.

“Oh!” Peter says, excited to recognise the song playing. “I love Led Zeppelin!”

Mr Stark’s jaw drops. For the first time in two weeks, Peter laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone else has any other ideas for extra or missing scenes, feel free to comment or leave them on tumblr!


End file.
